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“You know where.”

I step backward.

“You have thirty seconds before your advantage begins.”

Her mouth falls open.

“You’re leaving?”

“You refused to answer.”

“Rhys.”

“Twenty-seven seconds.”

“Fine.” She grips my coat. “Please put your fingers back inside me and make me come.”

My cock jerks.

“Better.”

I push her against the wall and give her what she requested. My fingers thrust deep. My thumb circles her. Sloane cries out. A year has taught me every response her body cannot conceal. The catch in her breathing when she is close. The way her left thigh shakes first. The slight downward pull of her hands when she wants more pressure. I use all of it.

“Who caught you?”

“The Reaper.”

“Who makes you beg?”

“You do.”

“Who decides when you come?”

“I—”

I stop moving. Sloane glares at me.

“Careful.”

“You do,” she gasps. “You decide.”

I drive my fingers harder. Her body tightens.

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please let me come.”

“Take off my ribbon.”

Her hand fumbles at her wrist. She unties the black silk and presses it into my palm.

“Now.”

I make her come. Her scream fills the shed as pleasure tears through her. I hold her upright while every pulse moves through my hand. When she softens, I remove my fingers. Sloane pulls my mask high enough to expose my mouth. She cleans her taste from my fingers with her tongue. My control nearly disappears. Then she kisses me. Hard. Brief. Cruel. Before I can catch her, she ducks beneath my arm and runs through the open door.

“Three-minute advantage!” she calls.